Little Bitty Pretty One
by Msynergy
Summary: Some dancing, some sword fighting, and some hot chocolate. All in a day's work at the Charmings. Family fluff.


_Little Bitty Pretty One_

Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.

Author's Note: Recently released pics have been needless to say inspiring, and gelled well with this other little plot bunny that's been bouncing about my brain so I went for it. The title comes from the song referenced in this fic, it's a fun one. As for this fic let's call it a bit of whimsy and family fluff, as I'm sure when the Charming ladies return they'll have even more epic adventures planned and this story simply won't fit. If it were to fit in the canon I'd say some time after the Charmings have been reunited yet again. Enjoy!

Emma Swan did not dance.

At least, not since she was thirteen and been forced to by a P.E. teacher committed to seeing that her students could dance as well as throw a mean dodge ball. She'd preferred dodge ball. She still remembers her partner Jim Green and how he reeked of tuna fish and B.O. After an entire week of him stepping on her toes she'd finally escaped to smoke outside behind the garbage bins with some other junior high rejects and try to act cooler than she was.

She never danced a day since those classes, and quit the cigarettes cold turkey when she found out she was pregnant.

And here she is, hot chocolate and book in hand, her son siting next her at the table, and her parents, yes, her parents, who both didn't look a day over thirty, cutting a mean rug to "In the Mood" as it pumped out of her mother's iPod stereo.

Snow White and Prince Charming had moves, go figure.

They certainly haven't had much reason to celebrate since their second reunion, but the pair had announced that afternoon that they were going to make their own fun, hence the impromptu dance party, and it took only one look at Henry to know their mood was infectious.

The kid should be doing his homework, curse or no he's still needs an education, but instead he watches mesmerized, a smile plastered across his face as his foot taps to the music against his chair.

But it's her turn to pay attention when the song finally ends and the next one starts playing over Snow and James' laughter. She knows this song.

The movie had come out around about the same time as the dance disaster. She'd snuck out and gone to see it by herself so her friends wouldn't know, it was a little kids movie and no way was she going to live it down if they'd found out. It was just that she'd loved the book as a little girl; it'd been one of the few dog-eared paperbacks she'd managed to hold onto during her constant moves. Until one time she'd had to choose, her blanket or her book, and she'd left the book behind. The movie was pretty good all things considered, but the song had stuck with her, combined with the scene in the movie it had made her feel lighter, happier, which was a pretty big deal.

It all comes rushing back with the first few notes of that song, and her face must be a sight because Henry is calling her name.

"Emma? Mom? You okay?"

The mom-word gets her attention immediately.

"Yeah, Henry, I'm fine."

He frowns, unconvinced, but willing to let it go as he looks away, and something stops Emma from doing the same.

He's trying, they all are, and it's working, it's just slow going. But she needs to hold up her end too. So, taking a deep breath, she takes the plunge.

"C'mon, Henry!"

"What?" She wishes she had a camera; the look on his face is priceless.

"I said c'mon!" she smiles, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his chair towards the dance floor. Making a quick stop at the D.J. she restarts the song, surprising her parents, and twirls Henry into a swing dance she thought long forgotten.

Henry happily follows her lead, and she finds she's way better as the leader of the dance. Go figure. It's not long before Henry's picking it up too, and she wonders if the dancing gene must skip a generation.

So enrapt is she that she doesn't notice James walk up, and he has to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"May I have this dance, Princess?" He addresses her, adding a formal bow for effect.

Her face scrunches at the Princess part, but Henry's already abandoned her with a sly smile, joining Snow on the sidelines.

But just as she's about to answer the song ends, and she sees her escape.

"Really, I'm only good for one song, thanks th-"

And the song's started again. Somebody must have put it on repeat. Snow's face is far too innocent for her liking.

"Well, Princess?" James asks again, that charming smile of his in full effect as he offers her his hand.

"Ugh, fine, and it's Emma," she sighs, taking his hand. She's unable to stop the squeak that leaves her, however, when he twirls her into his arms for a dip move.

She manages to stand back up somewhat gracefully, but most of the credit for that goes to James. He doesn't give her a break either, continuing their dance with a smile.

"Princess Emma, then," he insists, and she rolls her eyes.

"Fine, just don't do that again, Dad," she agrees breathless. Either James had been paying close attention and had added that move with natural talent or they had some killer dance classes back in the Enchanted Forest. Considering how he'd danced with Snow it was probably the former. But just as she's matching his pace he slows, and she frowns, wondering what made him change the pace. One look at his gobsmacked expression and she realizes-

Dad. She'd called him Dad.

Names were a tricky thing in Storybrooke, and even more so with the people she now knew to be her parents. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to address them as such, until now.

"Um-" She scrambles for something to say, any witty remark will do, but comes up empty as the song ends and starts up again. And with its end James ends their dance with another formal bow and a watery smile.

"Princess Emma."

She can only nod, feeling something inside her loosen as she manages a small smile back. But just as the moment grows awkward, Henry is there to save the day like the white knight he is.

"Grandpa? Can we practice before dinner?"

They both turn to see Henry carrying two wooden swords, already well worn thanks to previous hours of playtime.

"Well, kid, that's up to your mother now isn't it?" James smiles, directing that puppy dog pout of Henry's directly at her.

"Please, Emma? We'll come right in when dinner's ready I promise!"

She doesn't stand a chance, and what's worse is Henry knows it.

"Okay, fine. But don't continue to practice when you get inside like last time. You know how your grandma got when you broke that lamp."

"It wasn't me! It was Grandpa!"

"Henry, you wound me!"

"Not yet I haven't!" Henry shouts, smacking James' arm with the broad side of his sword before tossing James his and running for the door.

"Come back here, you little imp!" James shouts back, in full play-mode as he throws all manner of overdone threats at the boy's retreating back. Their banter can be heard all the way down the stairs, and even Emma has to laugh.

And when Snow's arm wraps around her shoulders she doesn't tense, another step forward. It's true their little field trip allowed them to clear the air, but physical contact is still a touchy subject. No pun intended.

She can feel Snow's surprise then happiness at not being pushed away, and she hides a smile as she feels her mother's gaze on her.

"Thank you, Emma."

"For what?" she asks, meeting Snow's eyes with an arched brow, "I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. And I have a feeling it's all I'm going to be hearing about now when you and Henry aren't around."

Emma scoffs, doing her best to ignore the warmth that has started to grow in her chest, only to feel it blossom when Snow presses a quick kiss to her temple and squeezes her shoulder before letting go.

They've still got a long way to go, but as she looks out the window and watches Henry crow in victory over his recent hit only to be scooped up in a fireman's carry by a laughing James, she thinks they'll be okay.

And just maybe, maybe she can find it in herself to help speed that process along some more.

Looking over at Snow, she makes her decision.

"Hey Mom, need help with dinner?"

Snow almost drops the dish she's holding, and again Emma wishes she had a camera.

"Emma!" she scolds, but the shimmer in her eyes and the twitching of her lips betrays her.

Walking over and taking the dish she just grins, "Better watch it, women your age you know-" And she is promptly banished from the kitchen.

When she reaches the table, however, she finds her mug missing, and the suspicious smell of cinnamon and chocolate wafts whence she came.

Burying her nose back in her book out of the corner of her eye she spots her mug reappearing, now steaming and filled, and she can't help but smile.

Yep, Emma thinks, we will be okay.

Author's Note: Figure out which book/movie Emma's a fan of? I thought it fitting, and some quick math made it seem pretty realistic to include. Of course, math is not my strong suit, but I hope you enjoyed the fluff!


End file.
